It’s after the deed is done and all involved parties are redressing themselves quickly to make it to that annoying DEC D class that takes attendance. The room is quiet except for the sound of flies zippering and the country-pop Pandora station created just for the occasion. To be fair, I’m probably the only person who wants songs about a tractor playing during sex, but Kenny Chesney always gets me going. I don’t know if it’s the country accent or the constant references to plowing, but it always serves its purpose.

But back to the story.

When you least expect it, a farting sound rips through the air. One party is disgusted by the culprit, the other is embarrassed, but knows the truth.

“That wasn’t my butt,” she insists.

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“It sounded like a fart,” the other accuses.

Even though the evidence against her is compelling, she wasn’t lying. It wasn’t her butt. The escaped air was a queef.

Unfortunately, this is one of the occupational hazards that accompanies sexual acts that require the flexibility of an Olympic gymnast. While yes, the acts can be fun and target nerves in your body you didn’t know existed, be prepared for the repercussions.

I remember the first time I queefed. It occurred at the end of a wonderful solo session on a bank holiday when schools were closed. Thank god no one else was there to hear it because the noise was so surprising and completely unexpected that it was only through deductive reasoning was I able to pinpoint exactly what it was. I have to admit, to anyone who’s never experienced one, they do sound exactly like a fart. The only way to really differentiate between the two is because the queefer can feel the location of departure for the air. Approximately half of the world’s population is incapable of experiencing a queef and these people (let’s call them men) reasonably confuse the two noises of escaped crotch air. So we understand your hesitation when we tell you it wasn’t a fart. Please trust us. We know better.

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But rest assured, this noise is not gaseous methane produced as a result of chemical digestion. It is only a queef. Unlike a fart, the air of a vaginal fart smells only as bad as the air that originally went into it. So if the room smells like the Axe you sprayed 15 minutes ago or the pet rat you keep in your room, it will be the queef. If your man starts complaining, just have him take a whiff of what comes out of his sexual organ and remind that you have to smell that every single time. So a tiny queef that happens after the standing one-legged reverse ring-of-fire is really just a small price to pay.

A little tip from the life experience of Kate Valerio: If you think that the activities of your day increase the likelihood of the mythical vaginal fart, tell a joke as you sit up slowly. When you laugh at your comic genius, the laughter will force out the air in one swift wind while also covering up any escaped sound.

Almost every woman who has had vaginal sex, with others or with herself, has experienced a queef. Sometimes it happens randomly with no apparent cause, sometimes it happens while stuffing the taco (especially when there’s extra meat) and sometimes it happens while someone’s face is two inches away from the airy organ. Regardless, all women do it, and if you have a tendency to sleep with women, one day you will be on the receiving end of this fishy fart.

So what do you when you find yourself faced with this odd puff of air?  Generally, just get over it and move on. And it’s ok to chuckle at the funny noise, or look your partner in the eye and say “You caused this!” After all, we’re not whales, and we don’t have blowholes.  The air that you push in will come right back out. But if you can’t handle the air, you shouldn’t be there.*

*For more information on queefing, please refer to “The Queef Song” by Delicious D.

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